Silken
by LoonyLuiny
Summary: A Drarry Oneshot. Harry and Draco are stuck in detention. Malfoy pulls a stunt that leaves Harry just a little...stunned.


Harry looked up from his nearly finished homework to watch Draco Malfoy, sitting far too at ease in a comfortable high-backed chair, one of his ankles resting on his other knee, a book in his lap. He'd finished his homework twenty minutes ago, and McGonagall still wasn't back.

Harry had to admit, at least this was a more comfortable detention than Snape would have given, if he'd been the one to catch Harry and Draco, wands out, just about to cast who-knows-what on each other, just outside the great hall no less. It wasn't fair, though, a whole week of detention, they had barely even fought this year! Harry had, in fact, been exercising excellent self-restraint, ignoring Malfoy's sneers and jibes. Could he help if it the obnoxious Slytherin had made it his purpose to make Harry's life hell since First Year?

Still, at least they could be comfortable, Harry admitted, settling deeper into the well-padded low couch he sat in, at the end as far from Malfoy's chair as possible. And at least they weren't being given some disgusting task. Just sit and do homework, in the same room, without hexing each other. Easy. As the first day had gone well enough, neither Harry nor Malfoy so much as looking at each other after the first exchanged glare, McGonagall hadn't thought twice to leave the two, with only a quick admonition to just do their homework until she returned, to go tend to some emergency.

Draco stood, stretching like a cat. Harry glared up at him for a moment, then threw his own homework down and leaned back, stretching his arms up and tipping his head back, working out his own stiffness.

Draco flopped backward on the couch, drawing his long legs up and resting his head on Harry's lap.

"Pet me." He demanded, lifting his book back into place before his eyes.

Harry sat unmoving, arms still raised, frozen in place.

"Uh...Malfoy? What-"

"I said 'pet me', Potter, are you deaf? Stroke my hair, run your fingers through it. Not complicated."

Harry still hadn't moved. "You want me to...play with your hair."

"That was the general idea, yes." Draco sneered, as if Harry were the biggest idiot on the planet. He turned a page. Harry's mind was frozen. He could almost hear a voice in his head, that sounded peculiarly like Ron, screaming "shove him off! What the bloody hell is Malfoy trying to pull?" Another part of him was staring down at the fine, silky blonde hair spread across his lap with curiosity. It looked...soft. Draco turned another page, apparently unaware of the unbelievable absurdity of the moment. Harry's hand dropped, gently he placed his fingertips in one lock of hair, discovering that, yes, it was every bit as soft as it looked. He now understood perfectly why Pansy always had her fingers in Draco's hair. It made perfect sense.

"Not like that!" A hand grasped his wrist, pulling his hand to Draco's scalp, the long, thin fingers pressing his own until his they were twined into Draco's hair. Harry moaned. He froze, absolutely shocked and horrified at the sound that had just left his lips. His mind was racing madly, yet he couldn't seem to form a single coherent thought. The idea to simply shove the Slytherin off his lap and hex him into next week for whatever twisted game he was trying to pull was replaced by the sensation of his fingers digging into Draco's hair and sliding down the length, Draco's hand still guiding his. His hand was replaced in its original position and then Draco brought his guiding hand back to his book and turned the page. Harry followed through with the action. This time he did not moan or make any other unseemly and horrifically embarrassing noise that would be sure to delight the Slytherin common room later when Draco shared the success of his latest prank on Harry. He brought his hand back once again to the roots of Draco's hair and dug his fingers deeply into the roots. This time it was Draco who made a sound. It was...almost a moan? Maybe more of a sigh? Interested, Harry drew his hand the length of the silky hair and dug his fingers even deeper into the roots of Draco's hair, curling his fingers to grasp, just a little. Ah. Yes. That was more like a moan. Definitely a moan. Harry experimented. He slid his hand beneath Draco's head and grasped the hair just above the Slytherin's neck, causing his head to lift slightly. The book dropped lower, no longer in Draco's line of sight. Harry finally brought his other hand, which he realized had been hovering, and traced lightly across the temples of that pale forehead, and then slid them into the hair just above his ear, digging deeper. He slid it the length of the captured strands and then, decided to experiment. Following the original command, he petted his hair, gently, softly, his other hand still grasping the neck hair tightly. He slid his hand down Draco's forehead, traced his fingers gently around the delicate shell of Draco's ear. Draco's eyes closed, he seemed to be breathing with great care. Harry slid his hand across Draco's jaw, down, grazing his chin with his thumb just below Draco's lips. Was it his imagination, or had Draco's lips parted in an attempt to...

He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers across the Slytherin's closed lids, then one finger traced the long line of his aristocratic nose, and paused for a moment, then he cupped Draco chin and slid his thumb gentle across the lower lip. Draco's breath hitched; Harry realized he was holding his breath and wondered how long he'd been doing that. He let it out in a shaky gasp, and brought his hand back to Draco's hair, away from that dangerously soft mouth. He removed the hand he'd had beneath Draco's head and used both hands to simply dig into the roots, massaging gently for a moment to elicit more of those intriguing moans, and slid down the length, feeling the silken strands flowing between his fingers. After a few repetitions, Draco's eyes opened. He looked up a Harry, and Harry was caught by the gaze. The door opened, and Ron and Hermione entered.

"Hey Harry, McGonagall said..." Ron stopped, mid-sentence, the tableau of Harry, staring up at him with wide, glazed, eyes, Draco's head in his lap, Harry's fingers buried in his hair, shocking him into silence. For a moment, the three looked at each other, unspeaking. Draco sat up, leaving Harry with his hands still poised claw-like over his lap, neatly tucked his book into his bag and stood, sliding his bag onto his shoulder in one smooth motion.

"Thanks Potter, you're even better at petting than Pansy." He strode toward the still open door, "Same time tomorrow Potter."

The tableau was broken by Ron, shouting "Did Malfoy just-" and Hermione exclaiming "Harry! Did you just-" They both stopped. Apparently too shocked to finish a thought. Harry stared for another long moment, the glazed look slowly changing to one of something like horror.

"Guys...I have no idea what just happened."


End file.
